


Sunburns

by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural



Series: Half Of You [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depowered Lucifer, Fluff, M/M, Samifer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 13:33:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/940566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural/pseuds/fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes forgiveness begins with inside-out t-shirts and sunburns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunburns

**Author's Note:**

> **Sunburns** : When the sun kisses the flesh to bring upon new flesh. Sunscreen is highly advised.
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> "Half Of You" is a series of Depowered Lucifer & Sam fluff. I know. I'm writing fluff. I promise not to make it sad....ish. 
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> **Disclaimer:** This is fan-run and this writer is not officially affiliated with the CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., and other official affiliates tied to the TV Show "Supernatural." This user does not claim ownership to the official content of Supernatural and does not seek profit off of the work produced presently. Plagiarism of this current story will not be tolerated and will be reported following AO3's terms of service. The stories, additional characters I create, are mine. This story was not created for profit. Making profit is deemed copyright infringement unless sanctioned by copyright holders (i.e. CW Network, Kripke Enterprises, Warner Bros., etc.). Copyright infringement can range from paying a fine to actual jail time. Please do not claim this story as yours! Please do not sell this story! Please do not reproduce this story! All violators will be reported and dealt with severely! 

They found Lucifer in Detroit. Reports of lightening storms, electrical outages, and sinkholes set off a red flag to the Winchesters, rushing over to the heart of the disaster zone to find the ragged and worn Prince of Darkness. Dean’s quick on the draw, jamming the barrel of his gun into the side of the archangel’s throat, ready to blow his jugular wide open. Sam knows he will. He doesn’t doubt his brother and Sam still wonders why Dean waits. Waits for his permission or his dissent. 

Sam is left pressing his thumb into his bandaged hand, pad of his finger digging into the gauze that’s beginning to become soaked in rain. Lucifer remains, whole and breathing, blue eyes staring up at him. 

It ends with Lucifer in the back seat of the Impala, breathing and staring out the window. Dean’s knuckles are white and the muscle in his jaw is flexing underneath his skin. _We should be searching for Cas,_ he tells Sam. _Cas is the one we should be picking up,_ he reiterates to Sam. _What about fucking Cas, Sam? This piece of shit didn’t do us any favors, and know you didn’t just conveniently forget_ , he bites out. 

It’s a long trip filled with radio silence, Dean’s frustration and the sound of Lucifer’s audible breathing. 

They garner he’s not much of an angel when Lucifer can pass through the bunker without much resistance. Dean brusquely pushes his way past the standing archangel, hair matted on his forehead and clothes damp. Sam’s left with the archangel, silent and staring at him expectantly. 

“You need to shower. You reek,” Sam motions Lucifer to follow him, making his way to the bathroom adjacent to his room. It’s unnerving that Lucifer has yet to speak to him, ever the personification of muted caution and curiosity. There is the quietest of impulses to leave and create distance between himself and the Devil, but he made a choice. He made the choice to grab Lucifer by the arm and help him to the Impala. The reason behind the choice still evades him. 

Sam shows the archangel how to start up the shower and where the essentials are located. It almost pulls a tired smile on his lips when the archangel blanches at the soap put in his hands. It took a hasty explanation to the blond that “Dove” is the brand of the soap, not necessarily the contents of the soap. Lucifer looks unconvinced when he leaves the Devil alone in the bathroom.

When Lucifer emerges out of the shower, Sam sighs and takes the towel-cladded Lucifer back to the sink. “Bend down and stick your head in the sink. You still got shampoo in your hair,” Sam sighs, the archangel doing as he was told. There’s ugly scarring on the blond’s back. They twist and curve like pale ribbons, elevated on his flesh. He can feel the bullet wound on the back of Lucifer’s head when he’s scrubbing the soap out. It’s a dent covered by wet hair, the exit of a bullet Dean put into the archangel’s skull years ago. He lightly slips his finger into it, feeling the groove and the archangel tense underneath him.

“Does it hurt?” 

Lucifer’s shoulders shrug and he gives a noncommittal sound. It makes Sam’s attempts of starting a conversation wane, feeling a bit stupid for even trying. Why is he even trying in the first place? Lucifer is a bloody, annoying psychopathic burden on his life. He’s waiting for the blond to break out in song, shrieking from the top of his lungs and yanking Sam into a dance step. Instead the archangel is silent and pensive, eyes closed as water runs across his skull.

Helping Lucifer dry his hair, he leads him to his room to pick out some new clothes. Sitting Lucifer on his bed, he sifts through his dresser for clothes the archangel can wear for now. Lucifer remains put, staring at the wall and the night light plugged into the corner by the door. It’s bland looking and cheap, tilting his head to the right as if he’s trying to process the item.

“Nyctophobia.” 

Sam turns around, startled and relieved by Lucifer’s voice breaking through the silence. Sam shakes his head in confusion, not sure what the word means. 

“In the Cage...there’s no light. It’s a yawning space of darkness that refuses to let any source of light penetrate it. When you’re tossed into the pitch black, the first thing you see is your own eyes. Gray shapes of your cornea, iris...sclera... Usually harmless, but it becomes more noticeable through time... It’s your retinas tearing, creating these streaks of light due to the strain. As you sit there in the Cage, the darkness gouging your vision, your brain begins to substitute for the absence around you. It seeks for stimulation so it creates it. Often it turns...disastrous,” he begins softly, eyes focused on his hands that sit in his lap.

“It’s difficult coping in the darkness when you’ve only known the light. The fear of what comes with the darkness has a way of...changing the landscape.”

Sam feels uncomfortable, as if he’s being privy to a heavy secret he wanted nothing to do with. He doesn’t like that he understands. Doesn’t like the fact that he’s still unsure of what occurred down in the Cage. It’s a reassurance that Lucifer is not exhibiting the Lucifer he has grown to loathe almost a year ago. This one doesn’t cackle and laugh at him. This, here, is the same gentle-spoken and honest archangel that came to him in his dreams ages ago.

“Nyctophobia is a terrible fear of the dark...and what comes with it,” he finishes gently, hands folding and unfolding in his lap, “I never wanted you in the Cage. I wouldn’t wish even on my enemies.” A moment of silence fills the space before the angel adds softly, “It’s my job to protect you and I failed.” The words hit Sam hard. He always wanted to believe in angels. Prayed desperately for them to just give them a helping hand or be there to protect Dean. It left him a bit left out to see angels pledge themselves to Dean. It’s rather lonely to see Dean and Castiel flow seamlessly together while all of Heaven marks him as the black sheep. 

It’s almost embarrassing how Lucifer’s words provided an overwhelming sense of relief. Embarrassing and...welcoming. 

Sam grabs the clothes he gathered and hands them to Lucifer, trying to piece together his own conflicting thoughts.

“I’m scared of it, too,” Sam finally confesses, turning his back to the archangel to give him privacy as he changes. “I know. It’s...silly. I’m an adult and I’m, now, afraid of it. Certainly doesn’t help the job,” he adds in clarification and Lucifer snorts in humor somewhere behind him.

“I am more than a billion years old and it terrifies me. I’m not winning this fight by any means,” the archangel reassures and it feels good. Feels so stupidly good to just get this off his chest and not feel...ashamed. Turning around, Sam gives a helpless sound in disbelief at Lucifer’s shirt being inside-out. 

He moves forward and lightly pulls on the tag in a show it wasn’t on right. Lucifer sighs and lifts his arms, Sam pulling it over his head. 

“What was the first thing you did out of the Cage?” Sam asks conversationally, feeling a bit bold.

Lucifer smiles and Sam’s not quite sure he’s ever seen the archangel smile like this. “Sat in the sun for hours on end. Refused to do anything productive during the day save for sunbathing. Ended up getting a handful of sunburns. I may have been a bit too proud of them,” the smile turns into a grin. Sam’s almost caught off guard by the newness of the expression he’s witnessing until Lucifer’s disarming words finally sink in.

Sam laughs, trying to imagine the fearsome King of Hell basking in the sun like a lazy feline. It nearly hurts his throat, the action so foreign to his body. 

“Well,” Sam’s laughter dies into a chuckle, helping Lucifer put on his shirt, “I know it’s not exactly sunny outside but...coffee always helps me warm up. Do you want to...try it? Maybe when it clears up we can head outside together.” Sam may be a bit too eager to show Lucifer the functionality and wonders of the coffee maker Dean bought them a few weeks ago. He may be a bit excited at the idea of watching Lucifer experience the sun.

The Morning Star smiles and gives a nod, “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> _Love it? Hate it? Tell me in a review!_


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